


Reality and Dreams

by Tshilaba



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Mentions of Hange Zoë - Freeform, Mentions of Levi Ackerman, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tshilaba/pseuds/Tshilaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wanted to be dead. I felt like I was. But waking up to you felt real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Historia's birthday. It probably makes little sense, but eh. I had fun writing it.
> 
> It's late, but whatever.

_I hated it. They wanted me dead. I wanted to be dead. But alive, or dead, it was still hell. Until, I met you..._

The brunette sighed, trailing her fingers through her hair absently. Her friends tried their best to console her, but as much as she aappreciated it, it was hard to ignore the feeling when she was alone. That everyone wanted her dead. Even her own parents hadn't wanted her; tried to kill her even, thinking she was possessed when she spoke of her dreams, filled with blood, and violence, and pain...

She'd been tossed between foster homes for around ten years before finally being thrown, quite literally, into the street. Thankfully, she was taken in by a rather reclusive and extremely eccentric couple. She never saw a wedding ring, but the taller of the two worked with chemicals for a living and the shorter was a clean freak. Perhaps they just didn't want to risk ruining them, but it was none of her business. They opened their doors to her without prejudice, though the brunet's questions were often prying Ymir found she didn't mind in the least. They were spurred by curiosity and intrigue, not hate. And the raven's near obsession with cleanliness was a truthfully welcome change after the places she'd been.

That was five years ago now, and though she'd long since gotten her G.E.D. and a decent paying job, they never once mentioned kicking her out. In her highest moments, she liked to fancy that they enjoyed her presence, though she knew it wasn't true. No one did. Even if the brunet's brown eyes lit up with warmth when they landed on her and the raven seemed a little less grumpy. They were dealing with her like everyone else did. But she did her part, helping with the bills and food when she could, despite the bespectacled scientist's insistence against it. The raven was silent though, so she continued to do so. Silence always meant she was "acceptable", at least for the moment.

A cold, grey, drizzly January day found her walking to work midmorning. She'd have had a ride if the scientist hadn't left before dawn that morning. She she slipped her jacket off once she'd stepped inside and tied it around her waist. She hated working retail, hated being around people, hated that they expected one to _trust_ them. That was something she refused to do. And she couldn't bring herself to care that people muttered " bitch" under their breath when she rang them up, her face remaining emotionless.

Her hair hung down around her shoulders today, her hair tie snapping when she went to tie her hair back. She'd been too pissed and in too much of a hurry, running late as she was, to find another one. And she refused to touch the scientist's, though she'd been told multiple times that she was welcome to use anything in the house.

It never was the truth.

She'd rung up maybe two customers by midday and she was grateful she wasn't paid by commissions like the mechanics at the scientist's second job. She leaned back against the register, examining her nails boredly, when the bell signaling a customer rang. She glanced up, uninterested, to see a petit little blonde with the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen walk through the doors, a little pink satchel a startling contrast to her deep purple coat. She'd never really thought about what she found attractive, save for that one conversation with her bespectacled landlord, but all she could think was _damn_. "Welcome to Best Mart," she said, as her job description called for, but surprised heself when her voice came out _cheerful._

The blonde started slightly and glanced up. "Oh...hello."

Something was different about that girl. Different about everything since the moment those doors opened.

When the girl came up to the register, balancing her items futily, Ymir couldn't help but take pity on her. "Here, let me help." She took the items carefully and set them on the belt before beginning to ring them up.

"Thanks," the blonde said, clearly relieved. "I'm Christa, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you, Christa." And it _was_. "What brings you out here on such a miserable day?" Small talk. Good God, maybe Crazy Glasses was rubbing off on her.

"It's my birthday."

The brunette froze then, the hand holding the container of frosting hovering over the scanner. "So why aren't you with your friends?"

The little blonde shrugged. "They're all busy."

 _She's lying._ " Oh, I see. Well, I can't just let you walk out without some form of congratulations. Store policy crap." She flashed her what she hoped could pass for a smile. "I get off at four. Would you like to go for a latte at the café just up the street?" She could feel those periwinkle blue eyes on her as she finished ringing up the girl's things. She held out the three bags.

Christa stared at her for a moment before taking the bags. "I'll be here at four then."

* * *

At four o' clock, she stepped out of the store, pulling her jacket on.

Christa stood, on the corner nearby, looking the same as before and Ymir wondered if she'd even gone home.

They walked to the café in silence, elbows brushing slightly and nearly unnoticed. Once they were seated, however, Christa said, in fluent German, "I'm sorry, but, do we know each other?"

The brunette laughed. It did almost feel like that. "I wouldn't deserve to know such an angel."

The blonde blushed in response, avoiding the taller woman's gaze. They'd switched back to English, but the conversation, the entire _environment_ felt far more intimate than it had any business being between two strangers.

They talked for what seemed like forever, swapping stories about their lives. Ymir talked of her younger years, the countless foster homes she'd been in. She saw the blonde's face fall, those beautiful blue eyes cloud over with concern. And she couldn't stand it. So she told her about her landlords. Their crazy arguments at two in the morning that usually started with "Shitty Glasses, why can't you just do like I ask?" and always punctuated by that bubbly laughter. Told her of how they took her in when she had nothing, and even when she had something, expected nothing in return.

She really should thank them, she realized.

It's nearing dark when the blonde finally said "There's no store policy about celebrating customers' birthdays."

"No, not really," Ymir admitted. "I just couldn't bear to see you celebrating alone."

The blonde smiled. "Thank you. That's the best present anyone could give me."

 _I should be thanking you_, the brunette thought. _You saved me then and you saved me again now._

But she won't tell her.

Yet.


End file.
